


Keep to Yourself

by JustSalPals



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Suicidal Thoughts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSalPals/pseuds/JustSalPals
Summary: Shane had more important things to worry about than some idiot newcomers. Things like: how best could he plan his walk from JojaMart to the Stardrop Saloon so as to not run into anyone? How many beers could he get away with before Gus started to look wary about sending him home alone? These were the important questions in his life right now. It had taken far too long for the existing townsfolk to get the picture and leave him alone, and now two more fresh faces were going to ruin that hard work. Just two more people who didn’t get it. Two people who had the ability and force of will to change their whole lives around, just on some fucking whim. Not everyone had that luxury, alright?Or: A pair of siblings move into the old abandoned farm, but only one seems like a people person. Mostly focused on Shane/Male Player, with minor Abigail/Female Player in the background.
Relationships: Abigail/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Abigail/Player (Stardew Valley), Shane/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Shane/Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue

“Yeah, I know I sound crazy.”

_She can just barely remember hazy Summers as a child, back when their Grandpa was still well enough to move around. Leona can only just picture his face from those visits, but she perfectly recalls the brush of leaves against her skin as her brother chased her through the lines of crops. She can remember their squealing laughter, their mother shaking her head fondly from the porch before turning back to the old man._

“I said that I know, Mason!”

_A grandfather laying peacefully on his bed, passing on one last letter before he disappeared forever. A mother far too still to be sleeping, fairy roses in her hair as a casket took her away from her family. A father lost without his wife, falling into his selfish grief rather than repair what life had been left behind. Two children quietly accepting that this must be their own fault, bitterly learning the ways of the world as they tried to care for themselves._

“He left it to us for a reason, right? Do you honestly want to let Grandpa’s legacy waste away like that?”

_Leona remembers fear and apprehension coiling in her gut at seventeen, waiting patiently for her father to come home from work. Fear, but also a terrible flickering hope. A wish to be accepted as her truest self. To share a part of herself that she’d kept hidden for so long, hoping with a desperation that he’d love her anyway. To see his cold exterior to crack for just a moment, so she could assure herself that she was more than a burden in his life. That night, she came out to her father as a lesbian._

_Two hours later Leona sat curled up and sobbing on a friend’s couch, a few belongings tucked into the hastily packed bag at her feet._

“Don’t be like that. You could use the change as much as I do. This could be good for us! Fresh country air! Lush and beautiful produce! Paving our own way in the world!”

_A seventeen-year-old girl stared at her cellphone, hovering over her brother’s name with crawling sense of dread. What would he think? Would he pity her? Would he be angry? Offer her a place to stay? Leona hadn’t talked to him since the holidays, and even that had been a choppy video call cut all too short. She would just be a nuisance to him. Mason had his own life, and the last thing that he needed was his snot nosed little sister barging in to ruin things for him._

“Well no matter what you pick, I already decided. I’m going. Life’s too short to waste away for the fucking Joja corporation.”

_Seventeen-year-old Leona tucked away her phone, resolving not to shove her problems onto her brother as they drifted away from each other._

“…Think about it, okay? For me?”

_Twenty-four-year-old Leona dialed the number, determined to drag her brother kicking and screaming out of his own misery and into the Stardew valley._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey there, welcome to my first multi-chapter fic in... ever? Oh wow, I've never posted a multi-chapter fic before. Thrilling! I'm honestly pretty nervous about starting to post this before I'm finished, but I just got so twitchy about the idea of letting this sit unseen on my laptop for however long. I crave validation!
> 
> Also rest assured: this fic is primarily focused on Shane and Mason (my farmer boy). Leona got reins on the perspective for the prologue, but the majority of this fic will be told from one of the boys' POV. Abigail/Leona is mostly background stuff


	2. Introduction Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You (a reasonable person): But Sal, aren’t you jumping into Stardew Valley fandom years late? And doesn’t EVERYONE do a Shane/OC fic?  
> Me: Hm, sorry I didn’t catch that. Anyway meet the sword gremlin and epic divorce man, my very gay farmer OCs.

Two new farmers were coming to town. Do you know how Shane knew? Because everyone knew. Everyone in town knew this oh so interesting fact, and yet it seemed to be the only thing people wanted to talk about for the past week. Pelican Town truly had hit the bottom of the barrel when it came to gossip. Even Shane, who had done nothing but avoid the topic religiously ever since it cropped up, had the basics drilled into his brain.

Way back in the day, long before Shane had moved in with his aunt a couple years ago, an old man apparently used to run the Critter Creek Farm. Shocking! Breaking news! He never would’ve guessed! The guy passed away a long time back, secretly passing down the deed to his land to his (at the time, far too young) grandchildren. Aw, how touching! Those scrappy youngsters eventually grew up, read the letter, and decided to pack up their lives to head to the valley! Did you hear that, Shane? Two new farmers! A brother and sister! Oh, this is so exciting. Two brand new faces, getting that abandoned land back in tip top shape. What do you think they’re going to grow? Do you think they’ll have Robin fix up that old barn? Oh, I sure hope so. We could really use the fresh business, and- blah blah blah.

Shane loved his aunt to death, but if he had to hear one more thing about those damned farmers? He couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. He’d get down on his knees right in front of smug-ass Morris, begging to be transferred to one of the Joja branches in Zuzu City.

Never mind that he’d never be able to afford a decent two-bedroom apartment in the city on his salary, much less be able to give Jas a decent life. Never mind that he’d already fallen too far into the bottomless rut of his life, never actually able to scrounge up the energy to make that sort of drastic change. Never mind that Marnie was the one really raising Jas at this point, while Shane clung to the side of their family unit like some filthy leach. What had he been thinking about again?

Right, the new farmers. In case it wasn’t clear enough, Shane had more important things to worry about than some idiot newcomers. Things like: how best could he plan his walk from JojaMart to the Stardrop Saloon so as to not run into anyone? How many beers could he get away with before Gus started to look wary about sending him home alone? These were the important questions in his life right now. It had taken far too long for the existing townsfolk to get the picture and leave him alone, and now two more fresh faces were going to ruin that hard work. Just two more people who didn’t get it. Two people who had the ability and force of will to change their whole lives around, just on some fucking whim. Not everyone had that luxury, alright?

The newbies had gotten to town a few days ago, and so far Shane had done an excellent job of minding his own business. Just a day like any other. One foot in front of the other, head down and hands shoved into his pockets. One more day. One more soul draining shift for Joja, and then he could haul himself over to the saloon for a few hours of pleasant numbness. It was the same walk to work as always, the sun far too bright for how early he forced himself out of bed. Same as always, except that there was an unfamiliar silhouette lingering at the bulletin board outside of Pierre’s. Shit.

Head down. Don’t make eye-contact, just keep moving forward like everything was normal. Everything _was_ normal. He was just a normal guy on his way to work, not looking forward to what his asshole boss would have to say if Shane showed up even a minute late. Ducking past the stranger as discretely as he could, Shane powerwalked his way past the general store and towards the river. He could still make it. He could keep putting off the inevitable for as long as he damn well pleased.

“Oh, hey there! Wait up!” A shock of light blue hair swung around in the corner of his vision, Shane gritting his teeth together as he contemplated. He could keep walking. He could totally just keep going, enjoying the blissful ignorance that came from staying completely isolated. Instead his gait slowed to a stop, turning around to watch the young woman jogging up to his side. She flashed him a grin like sunshine, and Shane’s insides curdled like spoiled milk. “Don’t think I’ve met you yet, have I? Things have been really hectic with all the moving, but I’ve been trying to introduce myself to everyone in town as soon as possible.”

It was too fucking early for this.

The girl in front of him was just a bit taller than Shane, her neon blue hair shaved on one side while the rest fluffed into an uncared-for mess. It was cut rather short, waves just barely grazing the center of her cheek and drawing attention to dark brown eyes. A hand encased in a fingerless glove was outstretched towards him, chipped black nail polish covering bitten down nails. A dark blue bandanna had been tied around her neck, chunky boots on her feet, and slung along her back was what appeared to be both a pickaxe and a sword. Her eyebrows drew together as he glared at her, bright smile wavering and offered handshake going completely ignored.

“I, uh,” she stumbled over her words, clearly having expected some sort of response by now. Clearing her throat for a second, she shoved back on the grin with a renewed confidence. “The name’s Leona! My brother and I just moved into the Critter Creek Farm a little ways east.”

She just didn’t get the picture, did she? With a sigh that turned into more of a growl, Shane rolled one of his shoulders and scowled at the woman. “I don’t know you,” he stated bluntly. “Why are you talking to me?”

Leona’s eyes went wide as she processed the question, her smile having gone completely stiff with shock. Ugh, not even a week in into their stay and she was already so caught off guard by basic rudeness? Clearly the other residents of Pelican Town had been giving far too warm of a welcome, letting the new farmers grow too used to that small-town charm. Good thing you could always count on Shane to temper down expectations and remind people that the world was still an awful place. Waiting barely a second to see if she’d respond, Shane turned away from the woman and resumed his usual trudge towards the bridge.

“Ah, wait! Wait!” This time Shane had no intention of stopping, and yet soon enough he found the stranger falling into step next to him. “Sorry about that, maybe I was a little too eager right out of the gates. Mason says I can be kinda enthusiastic sometimes, you know?” She was still talking. What on earth had Shane done to make her think he wanted her to keep talking? “Really though, I just wanted to introduce myself. We’re all basically neighbors in such a small town, so there’s no point in getting off on the wrong foot.”

There was a pregnant pause between them, like she was waiting for Shane to readily agree along with her babble. Yep, she’d obviously been dealing with the other citizens too much. Leona was just as bright and social as the rest of town, which is just what Shane had been dreading most. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered, shoulders hiked up with palpable tension. “Go find someone else to bother. Or don’t. I really don’t care, as long as I’m completely uninvolved.”

The footfall of boots came to a halt, finally letting Shane be free of their suffocating presence. The last thing he heard was a bitter whisper from behind, quiet enough that he likely wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place. “I guess there are assholes everywhere.”

There sure are, kid. The sooner she learned that much, the better it would be for everyone involved.

* * *

Weeks passed by before he knew it, Leona thankfully seeming to take Shane’s advice after their first meeting. She was always sure to give him a wide berth, keeping her distance even when she swung by the saloon on Fridays. It was almost freaky just how quickly she’d folded herself into their little community, cheerily making friends with everyone she met. Leona could constantly be seen around town, chatting with the villagers, poking around the abandoned community center, or trotting happily back home from an expedition into the mines.

She seemed to be in the mines a lot actually, if the well-used sword strapped to her back and constant scrapes on her skin were anything to go by. The dark powder of coal settled into the cuticles of her nails, staining the skin stubbornly no matter how often she washed them. A wide variety of rings had begun to collect on her fingers, each one glimmering with something unique hidden just underneath. Leona seemed comfortable. At home. She’d settled into the town faster than anyone Shane had ever seen, taking to her new life like it was the very thing she was made for. With all her galivanting about town and exploring dangerous mines, it seemed like a miracle that the woman had any time to tend to the actual farm she was supposed to be running.

Maybe that job fell more to her mysterious brother, who Shane hadn’t seen a single glimpse of in all the weeks gone by. For as much as Leona had become a constant presence in town, her housemate was something of an unknown specter. There was definitely another person, given that both Mayor Lewis and Robin had met the guy back when the siblings first came to town, but no one else seemed to know a lick about him.

Not that Shane had been asking. The saloon wasn’t a very large establishment, and Leona had one of those voices that carried across the room. She’d been chatting with Abigail off to the side, stealing one of the other girl’s maki rolls and ducking away from the playful glare she got in return. Shane had been doing his best to utterly ignore them, staring at the bottom of his glass and letting the warmth from the fireplace sink past his threadbare hoodie. Of course, it was hard not to notice when Abigail claimed that the mysterious brother was Pelican Town’s newest cryptid and Leona burst into giggles.

“Oh man, I wish it was something that exciting,” she agreed between bouts of laughter. Leona reached out to grab another piece of Abigail’s sushi, only to pout when her hand was slapped away. “Trust me, Mason isn’t anything special. I guess he’s just more suited to the farming parts of this than I am. He mostly takes care of the crops, cleans out the fields, ect. I think he was talking about having Robin look at setting up a proper coop and barn too? I don’t know. I help out where I can, but he’s got most of that stuff completely covered.” With a casual shrug, Leona leaned back in her seat. The old wooden legs of her chair creaked in protest as she tilted back into a balanced recline. “I think he sometimes goes out to fish? I could never get the hang of fishing, even when Willy tried to teach me the basics. Of course, the loser only seems to go out either in the middle of the night or when it’s pouring rain.”

The conversation hadn’t stuck with Shane very much, but he’d been more than a few beers into the night by that point. He wasn’t exactly storing away an overheard chat into his long-term memory, far more focused on waving over Emily for his next refill.

Maybe it would’ve done him some good to remember when a few days later, on Sunday afternoon, it had started storming. Shane stood huddled under the awning just outside the chicken coops, the hood of his jacket tugged up over his head as he looked out over the forest. Marnie had asked him to check on the chickens, make sure that they were handling the weather alright and that there weren’t any leaks in the ceiling. Mostly he thought she was just giving him something to do, which was fair enough. Shane felt like enough of a freeloader on a daily basis, even if he was regularly paying her the agreed upon rent.

That’s when he saw a figure walking down the disused path from Critter Creek farm, a bright yellow raincoat standing out bright against the dull backdrop of Cindersap in rain. Their steps were slow and careful, maneuvering around fallen branches and barely jostling the fishing rod propped against their shoulder.

For a second, Shane assumed that it must have been Leona. Then he noticed the broader set to the person’s shoulders, the sneakers getting caked in mud rather than her scuffed up pair of boots. Shane wasn’t much of a social guy, had actively been keeping himself cut off from the town and the new farmers, but… Well, there was only so far that natural human curiosity could be stamped down. The people of the valley had a way of shoving their kindness down Shane’s throat, but he’d heard barely a peep about this new farmer for as many weeks as he’d been around.

“Weird weather for fishing,” Shane mused aloud, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard over the downpour. The mysterious figure jumped at the sound, apparently not having noticed anyone else in the vicinity. The man hesitated, his head swiveling from the river to Shane and then back to the water. Then, with such effort that Shane almost felt he should be offended, they quietly began to approach the ranch.

Closer up, he could start to make out a face from within the shadows of that rain hood. Dark circles faded into the skin under darker eyes, his irises a deep enough brown that they almost seemed to disappear into his pupils. A soft jawline accentuated by just a bit of stubble. A slim nose that upturned just slightly at the end, the slightest crook in the bridge implying an old injury that never quite set right. Light brown hair dangled just past the length of his chin, dark and dripping at the ends where his coat couldn’t perfectly protect from the rain.

He was handsome enough, if Shane had to put a word to it. Which he certainly was not doing.

The stranger adjusted his hood again as he walked over, glancing up towards the sky as if just noticing for himself how bad the rain had gotten. “ ‘S fine,” he muttered, mouth tightening into an awkward grimace. Was that his attempt at a smile? “Didn’t have to water the crops, so I’ve got more free time than usual today. More types of fish start showing up in this kind of weather too.”

“In the rain?” Shane asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

“In the rain,” the man confirmed simply.

Long seconds of silence lingered between them, lightening crackling somewhere in the distance. Right. Why did Shane call him over again? This had to be one of the most awkward conversations he’d been a part of for a while, and usually he spent those chats trying to make the other person leave. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, fiddling with one of the holes in the worn blue fabric. “I’m Shane. Marnie’s nephew.”

“Right. Marnie was…” Dark eyes narrowed in thought, staring at a nearby tree like it had all his answers trapped just underneath the damp bark. “The adventurer’s guild leader? No, no wait, that was Marlon. Marnie is… the rancher. You’re the rancher’s nephew.”

“Uh huh.” Shane vaguely jerked his head backwards, gesturing to the ranch he’d been literally standing right in front of. It couldn’t have been that hard to put the pieces together. “And you’re one of those farmers, right?”

“Mason.” For the first time since they’d begun talking, Mason shifted to look Shane directly in the eyes. Such a simple movement, but something seemed to pick up in the air through the overwhelming fog of awkwardness. Something quiet, yet undoubtedly charged. “My name’s Mason. You’ve probably already met my sister, haven’t you?”

“Yep,” Shane confirmed, popping his lips lazily on the final P. “Pretty sure she can’t stand me, which is a fair response.”

Something seemed to brighten in Mason’s expression, a twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips while recognition danced behind his eyes. “Oh, so _you’re_ the town asshole.” He seemed to be far too pleased with that realization, repeating the nickname as if it were a proper title. Shane honestly didn’t know how he felt about leaving such a bad first impression that Leona had gone complaining to her brother.

They stood together for just a while longer, neither man entirely sure how to continue onwards or make a graceful exit. The rain softly pitter-pattered against Mason’s hood, the loud silence of a forest drowning out any real need to speak. Time ticked on, as it always was known to do, leaving two lost souls to be swept away by the current.

Mason’s mouth opened for just a second, words somehow getting lost on the way from his brain to his tongue. His lips closed unsatisfied, only to blurt out two words with a stiff sort of clumsiness. “Okay, bye!” Shoes squelching against the muddy floor of the forest, Mason rushed on towards the river like Shane had just threatened his life. Maybe that’s what he’d assumed was going to happen, being called out to by a stranger in the rain.

Shows what Shane got from poking his nose where it didn’t belong. If Mason wanted to hermit himself away up at that farm, he was probably the last person to be making any judgements. No new farmer was going to change the endless pattern that was Shane’s life, dragging himself daily from work to the saloon for the smallest chance of dulling the outside world. The idea of navigating conversation was enough to give him a splitting headache, on top of whatever hangover he found himself nursing in the morning.

Though despite only having exchanged a few sentences, it hadn’t felt like that with Mason. It didn’t feel like he was being attacked by words, throwing up walls and insults to keep himself safely insulated. It had just been… awkward. Like both of them were out of practice, slowly stumbling their way through the most basic of human interactions. Not necessarily a pleasant experience, but it hadn’t been the worst thing in the world.

And now he’d chased Mason off, like Shane was oh so known to do. That was fine. He’d turn right back around and return to his rut, just sinking that much deeper into the endless hole of his life. It wasn’t like they’d be seeing much of each other anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduction quest: completed! If anyone's interested, here are Leona and Mason's profiles (minus a couple sections just for me, lol). 
> 
> Name: Mason  
> Age: 29  
> Look: Light brown hair around his chin in length, pulled back in a ponytail when he’s working on the farm and down when he’s in town. Ripped jeans and flannel mostly, keeping his appearance extremely low maintenance.  
> Specialties: Farming, Fishing  
> Loved Gifts:  
> -Green tea  
> -Ancient fruit  
> -Catfish  
> -Wheat  
> -Dinosaur eggs  
> Hated Gifts:  
> -Tulips  
> -Rabbit’s foot  
> -Void egg  
> -Mega bombs
> 
> Name: Leona (Lee)  
> Age: 24  
> Look: Light blue hair with an undercut, dark blue banana around her neck. Chunky boots and chipped black painted nails, with constant scrapes and bruises from the mines. Lots of rings, because there may only be two equipment slots but she’s got ten fingers and by god is she gonna use that real estate.  
> Specialties: Combat, Mining, Foraging  
> Loved Gifts:  
> -Solar essence  
> -Iridium ore  
> -Mega bombs  
> -Fairy roses  
> -Crystal fruit  
> Hated Gifts:  
> -Parsnips  
> -Spicy eel  
> -Wine  
> -Sunflower seeds


	3. Shane 2 heart event, Mason 2 heart event

Mason couldn’t sleep. Or perhaps if he was going to be accurate about it, Mason couldn’t _stay_ asleep. He’d probably gotten a solid two hours of shut-eye that night before blinking awake, staring at the bare wooden wall of his bedroom with dull eyes. He’d reluctantly pulled himself from the warm bundle of blankets and wandered towards the kitchen, careful to keep his steps quiet as he passed by his sister’s room. Maybe some tea would help? Sometimes it did a decent job of letting Mason relax, delicately unwinding the ball of tension in his chest enough to let him drift off.

Twenty minutes later, a mostly drunk mug of tea sitting forgotten on the table, he decided that tonight was not going to be one of those nights. Insomnia really was a bitch to deal with.

On the bright side: Mason didn’t have a set schedule to deal with anymore. He wouldn’t have to worry about rushing out of bed to get to work on time, forcing himself to drive while exhausted just so he wouldn’t be fired. On the other hand, that was just as much a negative as it was a positive for someone like him. If there wasn’t a restrictive schedule to hold himself to, a guillotine hovering just over his neck, it could be difficult to find the motivation to do anything at all.

These things were a slippery slope for Mason, he’d come to learn. Letting himself sleep in for one more hour led to another, and another, and soon it would be the middle of the afternoon. At that point he’d already fallen out of schedule, so why bother at all? Why get up to water the plants, when he’d already missed the correct time? He’d already failed, already mucked everything up, and that sort of knowledge clamped a heavy tightness around his chest. It just made it that much harder to get up, to run damage control, to stop acting like such a worthless piece of shit and _actually do something for once, Mason! You’re a grown-ass man!_

Yeah. So. Mason liked to keep to a pretty strict schedule. He had a way of spiraling down when things started to slip. Hence why these recurring bouts of insomnia were such a pain to deal with.

Nothing to do about it now. Heaving out a sigh, Mason ran tired fingers through his hair and went to look for some proper clothes. A few minutes later he softly shut the front door to the farmhouse closed behind himself, the now-familiar weight of a fishing pole leaning against his shoulder. This was life now, he guessed. Mornings and afternoons spent in the fields, tending to crops and slowly working on clearing out the rest of the land. Seedlings carefully watered the exact right amount, weeds yanked from the ground or sliced away with his scythe, or trees growing more and more unsteady with each chop of his axe. The coop Robin had built for them stood proudly next to their home, still empty after being finished only a few days ago.

Lee kept saying that Mason should go out into town one of these days, just so the townsfolk knew he hadn’t died somewhere up in those woods. He told her that he would. Eventually. There were just so many people that he had to meet, had to keep track of, had to blindly wade his way through conversation with before he could return to the safety of home. He just wasn’t as good at that kind of stuff as Lee was, even before they’d moved out to the valley. Back then he’d only had a few friends, most of them he’d met through…

Well, no need to think about burned bridges. The Cindersap Forrest awaited. Hopefully he could at least turn this latest sleepless night into something productive, bringing home a few fish to throw in the shipping bin.

Mason hadn’t expected to find someone else already at the pier, legs dangling off the edge and a growing collection of empty cans piled up in a plastic Jojamart bag. A light blue jacket caught in the glow of the lantern next to him, bits of green glinting through the holes in ragged fabric. It was… Sean? Sheldon? Sebastian. No, no, no, Sebastian was the goth programmer guy Lee had told him about. Sid? Shane. His name was Shane. Mason really needed to get better at remembering names, before he ended up embarrassing himself to someone’s face. Of course, that would involve introducing himself to more than one person. Maybe he should start making the trek to town sooner rather than later, if only to start buying his own seeds at the general store.

Shane’s head tipped backwards to observe his new company, seeming completely undisturbed to find some weirdo staring at him from the brush. He simply lifted the can in his hand for a mock toast, promptly downing the remaining few gulps before tossing it into his bag with the rest. Mason’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the man’s hair, wondering if it had always been that color. The last time they’d met it had been pouring rain, Shane’s hood pulled up and hidden in the darkness of his shelter. Mason hadn’t been able to precisely see his hair, only a few dark locks tainted by shadow and the dampness of rain. He’d assumed it was black, maybe even a dark brown.

But no, unless Mason’s eyes were playing tricks on him, that didn’t seem to be the case. The soft glow of lantern light played off strands of dark purple hair, the shade more muted than the vivid violet he’d seen on a little girl playing in the forest. The valley really was full of strange people.

“Someone’s out late,” Shane pointed out, wordlessly offering an unopened can in the newcomer’s general direction. “Catching fish instead of catching Zs, huh?” Mason had never been much of a drinker, didn’t care for the bitterness of beer, but found himself walking over anyway to accept the drink. The can was still cool against the skin of his palm, the chilled sweat of condensation clinging to the metal as Mason shifted to sit on the pier. One of his own legs dangled off the side, the other crossed so the ankle rest against his knee. His fishing rod lay next to him on the dock, left abandoned in favor of cracking open his beer.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Mason admitted in a low mumble, absently rubbing at the dark circles under one of his eyes. “Seems to be becoming a habit for me. Thought that I might as well make something of it by coming down here.”

Shane gave a sharp bark of bitter laughter, pulling out another can for himself. “Wow, you’re a diligent one.” There was a hiss as he opened his new beer, hunching into himself as he took a long sip. The Cindersap forest smelled like fresh wood and soft dirt, like rushing water and something mystically unknown, and now like cheap beer with a hint of sterile grocery store. The contrast was something almost uniquely Shane’s, combining the comforts of nature with the misery of human society.

“Not really.” Mason had yet to even touch his own drink, staring absently at the open can rather than forcing himself to meet another person’s eyes. Shane himself seemed content to gaze out at the water, fingers drumming a meaningless rhythm along the wood of the pier. Maybe there wasn’t any need to talk, just to stave off the awkwardness that silence usually brought with it. It was almost nice. Shane’s presence was grounding, keeping him from drifting too far into his own head without having another person digging into Mason’s skull.

All things considered, there were worse ways to spend a sleepless night than with Lee’s least favorite neighbor.

“What about you?” Mason surprised himself by breaking the quiet that had settled between them, watching the lazy swivel of Shane’s head in the corner of his vision. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Nah.” Shane’s smile was so empty that it hurt, not even bothering to fake some facsimile of happiness. There was no pretense, no lying to protect Mason’s feelings, it was simply a dull expression of whatever pain was under the surface. “I just didn’t feel like heading home yet. Pathetic, right?” He chuckled, grip tightening enough to dent the flimsy can before he lowered it to sit on the wood. “It’s just…” Shane’s hand flipped around in a general presentation of unease, gesturing to the very world around them like it was at fault. “Everything. Life. Buh.”

Mason nodded slowly, finding that despite the vagueness he still understood precisely what Shane meant. “Life,” he agreed somberly, looking out over the gentle waters of the pond.

“Have you…” Shane sighed as he searched for the proper phrasing, scratching idly at the roughness of stubble along his jaw. “You ever think that no matter what you do, you’re going to fail? Like no matter what path you take, what inconsequential choice you make, nothing is ever going to work out? Not even because life isn’t fair, but because you…” His teeth grit together, crossing his arms against his knees to lean out over the water. “Because you just aren’t fucking good enough. Because you aren’t trying hard enough, or you made the wrong call, or just- that you just don’t deserve for anything good to happen anyway.”

Yoba, did he ever understand. The sentiment was a familiar noose around Mason’s neck, suffocating him slowly while others watched on unaware. He couldn’t respond, could barely breathe, just giving a stilted nod of his head as Shane continued speaking. Mason wasn’t even sure that the other man saw, with how intently he stared down at the water.

“It’s like I fell into some miserable abyss, so down deep that I’ll never see the light of day. Just the people. People walking by from afar, avoiding the hole like it’s nothing. No big deal. Just step around it, like any smart person would do. And I can’t touch them, or talk to them, or even pull them down with me. I just have to watch their silhouettes drift by, while I’m stuck down here in the mud.” There was a clattering noise as another can joined the bag, but Shane didn’t reach for another to replace it. “I just feel like no matter how hard I try… I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.”

Against his better judgement, Mason tilted back his head and chugged down his entire can of beer. It was the only reasonable response. Wiping off his mouth on the back of one sleeve, he tossed his empty can into the bag with the rest. Shane’s expression shifted into one of grim amusement, his lips tilted into a sloppy smirk.

“Fast drinker, huh? Man after my own heart.” The flush on Mason’s cheeks had everything to do with how quickly he’d downed that beer, especially given his usual distaste for alcohol. That was the only reason. Absolutely. It had nothing to do with the handsome man chuckling next to him, looking like death dragged him around the block and still managing to spark something warm in Mason’s chest. Nothing to do with that at all. “Probably shouldn’t make it a habit, or so I’ve been told. Bad for the liver. You’ve still got a future ahead of you, after all.”

This time it was Mason’s turn to laugh, shocked out of him with an abrupt yelp of self-deprecation. He covered his mouth with one hand to muffle the snickering, Shane looking his way disbelievingly from just outside of his perception.

“What? I say something funny?”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just- shit.” Mason cleared his throat to hold back any more giggling, shoulders slumping in exhaustion and head tilted up to look at the night sky. He rest his hands back against the damp wood of the pier, leaning backwards on his propped-up arms. “Do you know why I came to the farm?”

“Your grandpa left it to you guys, right?” Shane answered, obviously not seeing the connection to their previous line of conversation. “He kicked the bucket when you were kids, hiding the deed away in some letter that he gave you for safekeeping. Years later, working an awful Joja office job, Leona found the letter again and discovered the deed he’d left both of you in his will. She called you up, and the two of you packed up your lives and headed to Critter Creek Farm.” He shrugged, giving a soft snort of laughter. “At least, that’s how she tells it at the saloon. Might have got some details wrong, just overhearing from the fireplace.”

“Huh. So that’s what Lee’s been telling people. I guess it’s not wrong, objectively speaking.” Mason’s eyes flickered from star to star overhead, still not used to seeing so many at once. He tried to see patterns in the chaos, constellations among scattered light, but he’d never been very good at that. No matter how patiently someone tried to map them out for him, they always looked like scattered pinpricks across the inky void. No rhyme, no reason, no mythical figures to bring him comfort in the night. “All of that happened, just like she said it did. Except she found grandpa’s letter two years ago.”

That seemed to catch Shane’s attention, his gaze flickering along the lines of Mason’s profile. “Two years,” he repeated, trying and failing to understand the implication. “You guys didn’t come right away?”

“Nope. Honestly, Lee and I drifted apart as we grew up. The two of us only really talked on holidays. Even then, we never really _talked_.” It was his fault, when it came down to it. Mason had wanted to distance himself from their father when he moved out, not even pausing to consider his little sister on the way. He hadn’t thought about her, hadn’t reached out, hadn’t known that she needed help. “She called me right after she found the letter, spouting all these grand plans about moving out to Stardew Valley. Lee wanted all three of us to uproot our lives and come here, to give an honest shot at restoring the farm to its former glory.”

Shane’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “The three of you?”

“Mmhm. Me, Lee, and Serena. My wife.” And there was the silence, confusion dancing across the space between them. “Ex-wife. Right when Lee called me two years ago, I had been in the middle of finalizing my divorce. There was a lot going in in my life at the time, obviously, and I convinced her that she had a good thing going for her at her job. We couldn’t just wipe the slate clean and start from scratch. That’s not how life works. After that we tried to keep in touch a little better, but it was always pretty sporadic between us. I think after two years she just… got tired of my moping? Or maybe I was worn down. Don’t know.”

“Huh.” Huh indeed. “So, you were married?”

Mason’s head rolled sideways on his shoulder, his own pained grin sliding easily across his expression. Mostly he’d been surprised that Lee hadn’t gone telling people the whole story, but found it in himself to be appreciative to her. Some things were a bit too personal to let tumble into the small-town gossip mill. “Sure was. Old high school sweethearts, just as cute as you can imagine. I married her because she was my best friend, and the world kept on telling me that I meant I loved her. Figured out that I was gay a bit too late.”

“Not an uncommon story, I guess.”

“Nah,” Mason agreed, looking back up at the stars. “Doesn’t mean it’s a fun one.” Shane quietly hummed in affirmation, and they let the sounds of the forest overtake them again. Two men with no future in sight, wasting the night away on a lonely pier. Near strangers, sharing a piece of their own darkness with each other in hopes of lightening the pressure weighing them both down.

* * *

Ever since they’d moved out to the farm, Lee had started saying strange things. She claimed that there were monsters in the mines, spirits in the community center, a wizard in the woods. The last one had Mason particularly concerned, as she’d supposedly been summoned to said wizard’s tower and asked to drink some strange concoction. Which she’d done. Without question or complaint. Seriously, Lee? You’ve got to have better self-preservation instincts that that. It was a miracle that she hadn’t turned up grievously injured, besides whatever scrapes she got apparently fighting wild animals in the mines.

His sister had always been a bit superstitious, but it really had moved up to the next level lately. Lee seemed to be absolutely convinced that there was real magic in the Stardew Valley, no matter what the basic laws of physics insisted was the truth. It’s not like Mason didn’t have an open mind, but there was a big difference in being receptive to viewpoints outside of your own and flat out daydreaming. He’d never seen or heard anything in his life that couldn’t be explained rationally, much to Lee’s constant exasperation. There was no magic in the valley, because Mason knew that magic just didn’t exist.

That is, he thought he knew. Until one night at 3:00am, staring out at the farm and fighting off a grinding headache, Mason saw a witch. An honest to Yoba witch, riding on a broom, cackling into the night wind, and Mason had every reason to believe that his sleep deprived mind finally gave up on the real world and had begun to conjure up fantastical visions.

This was it. This was the end of him. It had been a good run, or at least a mediocre one. Thanks for coming everyone, but the show’s over. Exit stage left, please pay no attention to the man in the corner experiencing debilitating hallucinations.

The next morning found Mason sitting in his kitchen, staring blankly at the egg resting on the table before him. He delicately prodded at the black shell using one finger, watching the pattern of red speckles carefully when the orb rocked in response. It felt like a normal egg. It behaved like a normal egg. Normal eggs were not red and black, a vague aura of dread emanating from their very core. Just poking it made a wave of gooseflesh prickle up Mason’s forearm, though that could also be the five mugs of coffee he’d drained to stay awake overnight.

He wasn’t crazy. The world was crazy, just carelessly tossing things like scheming witches and cursed eggs his way. Magic wasn’t real, this wasn’t a cursed egg, everything was fucking _normal_ and this insane valley was _not_ going to drag him into its delusions. He was _FINE_.

“A witch,” Lee repeated slowly after him, her fingers stapled together in front of her chin. His sister’s brow was furrowed together with concern, lips drawn into a tight line as her gaze flickered from him to the egg. She, of all people in this awful world, had no right to be looking at Mason with such skepticism.

“Yes,” he hissed out, still glaring at the egg wobbling innocently on the table. “It was a witch.”

“Pointy hat,” Lee continued on, acting as if his confirmation had just drifted in one ear and out of the other. “Green skin, riding a broom stick. The whole shebang. A proper, classic, Spirit’s Eve style witch. Just… hovering over our chicken coop at three in the morning. Casting some nefarious spell. And you expect me to believe this.”

“Yes, I do expect that much!” Mason snapped, letting a bite of anger seep into his tone. “After all the bullshit you’ve said lately, the least you can do is believe me!” This ridiculous situation was hardly something to be getting upset over, but he’d felt like he was nearing the end of his rope long before Lee had convinced him to move out here. Now those last few inches he’d been gripping onto had been snapped off, and who was to blame? Who snipped clean the last bit of his sanity? _A witch. It was a damned witch._ So maybe Mason was more than a little testy. Maybe all this tension had been stewing in his gut for far too long, just looking for something to project all his problems onto. And right now he was projecting all of those problems onto one tiny egg.

Lee’s hands rose in a sign of mock surrender, as if he’d been holding her at knifepoint instead of just mildly lashing out. “Okay, okay. I’ll trust the word of a guy who’s been awake for at least twenty-four hours. Notably the type of person from which you can get the most trustworthy and reliable testimony from. A witch came and cursed one of our chickens’ eggs last night into a horrible ball of void and hate.” Oh, he’d been up longer than twenty-four hours. In the interest of protecting his very flimsy credibility, Mason kept this bit of info to himself. “So…” With only a moment’s pause to think, Lee’s face split into a deceptively playful grin.

“I triple dog dare you to eat the void egg.”

* * *

It was 6:00am on a Tuesday, and someone was knocking insistently on the door to Marnie’s ranch. Shane was not mentally prepared to deal with this. He was never mentally prepared to deal with most things, but especially not at six in the morning on a workday. The banging only grew louder and more panicked as Shane sighed, setting down the dry bowl of cereal he’d been hoping to stomach before heading to JojaMart. Muffled shouting was seeping through the cracks in the wood, and he knew that if he let this continue it would undoubtedly wake up Marnie and Jas.

Those two deserved every minute of rest they could get. Mondays and Tuesdays were Marnie’s days off, after working hard running a ranch by herself. Shane helped where he could of course, but between long days at JojaMart and an unfightable nightly call to the saloon, he wasn’t much real assistance. Marnie had been getting older, even if she didn’t like to admit it. Moving a bit slower, hiding aches and pains that came from bending just so. She worked so hard every day, and she would be up and out of bed in a heartbeat to help out a valued customer even on her day off. Which was exactly why Shane couldn’t let her be woken up by some inconsiderate dolt.

So Shane opened the door himself, immediately regretting the decision when he came face to face with ruffled blue hair and frantic eyes. “Mar- Shane?! Fine, Shane it is! You’ll do.” Shane it is. He should get that printed on a tee-shirt, as a general reminder for how the world felt about his existence. A hand grabbed at the collar to Shane’s uniform shirt and yanked, dragging him out the door with a few stumbling steps.

“Wha- Hey, you can’t- What the hell, Leona??” Rushing alongside to make sure he wasn’t choked, Shane found himself lead off the ranch towards the path to Critter Creek Farm. The trail was a lot clearer than he remembered it being, trees and grass chopped away to leave an unobscured view of the farmhouse in the distance. “What do you need?”

“I think I poisoned my brother!” Leona’s tone was rushed and clipped as they barreled through the field, paying no mind to the occasional twig snapped underfoot. “We were just- it was a silly dare! I thought he’d painted the egg himself! How could I have known-”

 _”Poisoned?”_ It was too early to be dealing with this. No, there was no good time to be dealing with this. Why was Shane the one dealing with this? Why wasn’t literally anyone else standing in his place? “You poisoned him and decided to get me of people? And not, I don’t know, Harvey? The medical professional??”

“I needed someone who knows about eggs!” she attempted to defend herself, as if she hadn’t just grabbed the first person she could find in an utter panic. “It’s not like he’s in pain or… I don’t know! I had a bite and it was just fine! Maybe made me a little moody, a bit too aware of the crushing weight of the universe, but otherwise fine!” The wooden steps of a porch creaked underfoot, Shane feeling more lost as the seconds ticked on. “Mason took it harder, I think. He’s sorta spiraled into an existential crisis, and I was wondering if Marnie had seen anything like that before. You know, from a fried egg.”

Leona had done nothing to clear up the situation, but threw open the door anyway to reveal their rundown kitchen. Mason himself, the source of all this drama, lay on his back under the old wooden dining table. Not sleeping, just staring up at the table’s underside with unblinking eyes. Fluffy light brown hair fanned out against the floor, long strands that usually covered his face now swept back by gravity. Despite her initial rush to get them there, Leona hesitated in the doorway before shoving Shane forward.

Was he really doing this? Shane’s shift at Joja started around 8:30 today, but walk from tended to take him quite a while. Probably longer if he was leaving from the farm. There was no reason to take that risk, especially seeing as he had no clue on earth what was even happening.

But the fuzzy memories of a night by the pier swam through his brain, a stranger listening to Shane’s gloomy rambling with a spark of empathy in his eyes. Mason had put up with his drunken babble, sat with him, and even shared his own vulnerability. Maybe that’s why instead of turning around and slamming the door in Leona’s face, he heaved a reluctant sigh and made his way over to the table. Shane crouched down low to look at the man, glaring at Mason’s face without saying a word.

Soon enough dark brown eyes flicked over to meet his, Mason flinching away violently like he was seeing a ghost. “Shane! Shane, Shaaaaaaaane.” Fingers latched on to the end of his pant leg, Shane grimacing at the tight attachment. He slowly started to pry off Mason’s grip, though didn’t do so too forcefully. “It’s all cursed, Shane. The egg, the house, the entire concept of a universe. It was all cursed from the beginning. Mortal life in itself is a curse, given only so we can understand just how little we deserve it. Do you understand, Shane? Do you know the true depths of the eternal void?”

He most certainly did not understand, and was beginning to suspect that ‘eating a fried egg’ had been Leona’s codeword for ‘doing drugs at six o’clock in the morning’. There was a light tip-tapping noise across the floor, accompanied by an old dog wandering over from the corner. It was a basset hound, its sad drooping face and long ears swaying back and forth as it waddled over on stumpy legs. The dog flopped down directly next to Mason on the ground, resting its chin on his chest.

Mason burst into tears.

“S-She’s just such a good girl,” the grown man sobbed on his own kitchen floor, lightly scratching her behind the ears. “So beautiful. Gigi is a regal queen, and- and I don’t deserve her. No one deserves her! We as a species have done nothing to earn the unconditional love dogs give us so openly!” Shane felt extremely uncomfortable with everything that was happening. Morris might have to put up with him being a little late to work this morning, because this mess of a guy wasn’t going to pick himself up any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever seen a dog so beautiful you started crying? Also you may say that the reason Sebastian loves void eggs is because they match his cool goth aesthetic, but I know the real truth. Magic emo drugs.
> 
> I tried to show more of Mason's character in this one, but I'm honestly pretty clunky at writing dialogue. My strengths lie in long rambling introspective pieces, not ones with so much interaction! That's part of the reason I wanted to write this actually. To work on that aspect of my writing! Either way, let me know what you think. I wanted both Shane and Mason to be depressed assholes, but I've been trying very hard to make them different breeds of Bastard Men.


	4. Sibling Event 1, Flower Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'll stick to this format the whole way through, but I've pretty much planned on doing this fic mostly in "events" (if you couldn't tell). Shane and Mason's personal heart events of course, as well as some sibling events and a few festivals sprinkled throughout.

“I can’t believe you’re actually serious about this.” Mason grumbled quietly as he handled the smelted metal bars, stacking one on top of the other. Gold, copper, iron, each heavier than they looked and crafted from their combined hard work. Lee in the mines, searching out and picking away at only the finest of ore. Mason at the farm, amateurishly working the furnace in order to craft the materials they needed. Now three bars sat in a perfect stack, glimmering beautifully as he carefully wrapped them in an orange cloth.

“I can’t believe you’re still being a little bitch about this.” Lee kicked her feet freely off the side of their porch, not bothering to watch as her brother tied up the bundle. Between her legs sat an old miniature harp, the wood leaning against her shoulder as she plucked the delicate strings. It was kind of strange, seeing her like this. The music she played was drifting and aimless, the wistful melody of melancholic days that had yet to pass. Every twitch of her fingertips along the strings was soft and precise, so unlike the gung-ho attitude he’d come to expect from her in the passing months. Those gentle hands were the same ones that gripped a sword tightly, covered in the dirt of the underground and the grime of slain monsters. That hesitantly yearning spirit was the same burning soul who pushed him to constantly better himself, diving head-first herself into the social hurdles of a new life.

Spring was nearly over now, yet his own sister still felt like some unknown enigma. What kind of shitty older brother was he, not knowing anything about Lee’s life? How had the timid little girl with hazelnut hair turned into the bright blue warrior before him? How could she have her life so completely under control, despite being a whole five years younger than Mason? Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was just better at hiding it than him, covering her sadness with blinding smiles and bottomless enthusiasm. The Lee he’d known had always seemed so starved for the validation of others, working herself to the bone to be whatever the world demanded of her. Was now any different, watching her throw her body and soul into helping this little community keep afloat?

The brown twine pulled taunt under Mason’s fingers, wrapping it around the package a few extra times to be sure that it was secure. The melody that drifted across their farm stopped unsatisfyingly, hands pausing mid-note to watch him stand up with the heavy orange bundle. Gigi perked up from her spot next to Lee’s feet, giving a quietly offended bark at the sudden lack of music, but was quickly pacified by a gentle scratch behind her floppy ears.

“See?” Lee teasingly prodded, abandoning her harp to jump cheerfully off the porch. Her boots hit the ground with a dull thud, gesturing towards the path towards town. “Not so hard, was it? Now get that ass in gear or we’ll start losing daylight.”

Mason sighed heavily as she trotted away from their farm, hoisting the weighty package in his arms as he trailed along behind. “You’re just going to leave the harp sitting out?” he prodded, keeping his focus on Lee as they passed by the defunct bus stop. He didn’t often come this way on the path out of Critter Creek, preferring the far emptier paths that led into the forest or up the mountain. “That’s pretty reckless.”

Lee span around to face him as they talked, not even breaking her stride with the movement. She easily walked backwards as they plod towards the town square, hands in her jacket pockets and completely nonchalant. A bulletin board stood out in the corner of Mason’s vison, plastered with brightly colored wanted ads and a large heavily notated calendar. “Come on man, it’s Pelican Town. I can promise you that no one is going to steal my shitty harp.”

“Not what I meant.” Mason rolled his eyes, shifting his package from one arm to the other. It really was a pain to carry all this way, even if all the farm work had left him in better shape than he’d been in for years. “You’re just leaving it sitting on the porch, open to the blustering elements or any curious canines.”

“You take that back, mister. Gigi is a saint and I refuse to stand by while you slander her good name.” Together they rounded the corner past Pierre’s general store, Mason only pausing for a second to peer in the window. He really needed to start buying his own supplies soon, instead of just sending Lee into town with a list. Now that he’d started to get the hang of growing things, it seemed like a good idea to look at the seeds himself and get an understanding of their quality. With Spring drawing to a close and the Summer growing season just around the bend, now was the time to make that leap. Maybe he would soon.

Not today. Lee was still waltzing up the path ahead, her boots thumping against the worn stone of a set of stairs. Just thinking about ducking inside, floundering his way through conversation with a too friendly stranger, steadily sapped away at his precious remaining stores of energy. Social graces really took a lot out of Mason, and he still had a few farm chores to do after they got back. Those new chickens weren’t going to take care of themselves, ignoring the one incident involving a cursed egg. He refused to talk about the void egg incident.

Rushing his steps to catch up with his sister, Mason noted that she’d turned back around to walk front-ways. Lee’s fingers smoothed out the material of her leather jacket, a well-worn piece she’d got at a thrift store in Zuzu City before they’d moved. She’d taken to wearing it more and more these days, supposedly to help protect from the dangerous elements of the mines.

“I’ve been playing it more lately,” Lee mused, picking up their conversation as if he’d never lingered behind. “It’s been a while since I really felt inspired when it comes to music, but… I don’t know. I guess I found a kindred soul the other day.” Her smile was wistful in a way that seemed so foreign on his sister’s face, much like the somber plucking of her harp that morning. It felt like some breach of privacy that he got to see this side of her, even if she seemed to show it freely. What had he done to deserve her trust, besides the coincidence of being born into the same home? “I don’t think I’ve really enjoyed the rain in a long time, you know? Sometimes I just get so caught up in what I’m doing, running from one place to another, that I just… forget. Forget to take a second and remember what it is I like about this place so much. Rain on the mountain landscape really is breathtaking.”

Stone path transitioned to dirt under Mason’s feet, crunching under the footfall of beat-up sneakers. He should really invest in some heavier duty shoes for himself, if he was genuinely dedicating himself to the farming lifestyle. Was that what he’d been doing? Dedicating himself to the lifestyle? Nothing about moving to Stardew Valley honestly felt real, even as months went by and the season started to warm up. Mason hadn’t thought at all about the real logistics of it at the time, or what sort of resources he’d need to worry about. For as much as he lectured Lee on her reckless behavior, at least she’d been able to fully adapt herself to the new lifestyle.

Mason still felt as lost as ever, even as he stumbled his way through the routine of farm care. When he’d finally accepted the offer to move, he hadn’t even considered what day to day life would be like. Embarrassingly enough, all he’d thought about was leaving. A clean slate, a new beginning, starting from square one and promising himself that he wouldn’t fuck it up this time around. So much for that, huh? Mason had taken that clean slate and shoved it under his bed to collect cobwebs, preferring to lock himself away from the judgmental kindness of strangers.

Lee was still talking. Yep, he was a terrible conversation partner.

“She likes amethyst a lot. Not that I was asking! But I’d been stocking up on a lot of amethyst down in the mines, and it’s not like I have anything to use it for. And… she likes them. They’re such a deep pretty purple, kind of like her hair. Do you think that’s why she dyes it that color? It’s such a good shade.” When in the hell had Lee gone from talking about the harp to rambling about a girl? Mason nodded his head silently as they approached the community center, as if he hadn’t gotten lost in his own head for a few moments there. “All the time we’ve been here, three months in the next week or so, and I’ve never seen that color fade! What kind of dye do you think she uses? No roots either, now that I think about it. Maybe she just touches it up regularly? I really need to ask, because that is such a good look. I-”

Lee suddenly stopped at the old heavy doors to the community center, her face pale and eyes wide. Fingers tangled into the short strands of blue hair, having faded from neon to a more pastel shade since she’d last taken the time to dye it. “Oh Yoba,” his sister muttered, unaware of Mason’s eyebrows raised in question. “Oh no, oh man, oh fuck. I’m so gay, Mason. I’m extremely fucking gay. We played gorgeous music together in the gloomy rain of a beautiful mountainside, and that’s probably the gayest thing that I’ve ever done in my life. Isn’t that so gay?”

Mason’s head tilted to the side in thought, as if he were honestly weighing the question with all the care that it called for. Slowly he pushed open the door to the abandoned building, bright light of day breaking through the shadow and revealing a hefty cloud of dust. “Lee,” he spoke gently, guiding her through the passageway with a sweeping gesture of his arm. “That’s extremely fucking gay.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Pushing past him and into the decrepit communal space, Lee paced back and forth along creaking floorboards. Honestly, Mason was impressed that they didn’t give way entirely under the added weight of a human being. “Oh no, I’m in too deep. Call the alarms, release the missiles, kill me where I stand. I have a big dumb crush on the coolest girl in town, and now that I’ve released that things will not go well. I’m physically incapable of playing it cool now that I know I like her.”

“So, did you actually have a reason for making me lug these things over here?” Mason was quick to interrupt, fully recognizing the beginnings of a spiral. He liked to consider himself a decent listener (when he could make himself pay attention), but not while dragging around three heavy metal bars. Something bright and colorful darted in the corner of his vision, only to have completely disappeared by the time he glanced over. Yeah, this place gave Mason the shivers.

However, Lee only smiled when she noticed his eyes darting nervously about. All her relationship related anxiety was easily pushed aside in favor of a childish glee, bouncing on her feet before corralling him towards the hallway. “Right, yeah, of course. This way! You’ve really been a big help!” She led him down a steep staircase, unfazed by the deafening groaning of rotten wood under her boots. Mason clung to the handrail as he descended, keeping an eye out for splinters. “I’m so glad that you’re finally open to hearing me out. I guess that witch left us something good after all, didn’t she?”

He refused. To talk. About the void egg incident.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Lee shifted to touch one of her numerous rings. They seemed so out of place on her fingers, shiny and clinking together as she swiveled her hands around. Lee had never been much the type who liked excessive jewelry, but now it seemed like she’d collected a new one every time Mason turned his head. The pad of her index finger swept along a simple golden band at the base of her middle finger, the metal quickly responding to the touch with a mild glow. The light from the ring expanded in a small arch around her, chasing away the shadows of a disused boiler room.

To say that the room was in bad shape would be an understatement, even in the context of the already ruined building it sat below. Old cobwebs lined the walls with broken pipe strewn about the ground. Large chunks of brick were missing from the flooring, and a strange clump of fungi had stared to grow from the exposed dirt. But what really drew the eye was the golden plaque sitting neatly on the floor, somehow sparkling even in its dingy surroundings. The light from Lee’s ring glittered off the surface, completely bare of even a speck of dust.

When Mason turned to his sister for guidance, she gave him no answers. Just the silent insistence that he get on with it already, the dim light shifting with her every movement. Fighting back a tired sigh that threatened to escape, he watched his step and made his way over to the golden sheen. With every inch closer something seemed to change in the air, electric in a way that made the hairs on the back of Mason’s neck prickle upwards.

More bulbs of color flashed in the corners of his vison, flickering away like an optical illusion each time he tried to look. A quiet chittering began to build in the back of his head, low enough to be mistaken for the creaking floorboards or Mason’s burgeoning headache. But he knew better. He could hear tiny chimes of laughter from the edges of the room, rising and falling in the rhythm of a babbling brook. The metal bars settled on the ground with a gentle thud as he set down the package, taking his time to kneel on the floor and inspect the mysterious artifact.

Mason ran his fingers along the engraving, feeling the raised metal of unfamiliar symbols. Another language, maybe? Whenever he tried to focus on the individual letters something in his head went weird, swimming uncomfortably and stirring up his headache from the back of his skull. The writing seemed horribly alive where it lived in his brain, yet the tactile sensation under his fingertips remained unnervingly stationary. More colors, more sounds, more unknowns just at the edge of his perception and playfully pleading him to open his eyes to another world.

Lee took a seat next to him, legs crossed as she leaned forward to smooth out the creases in the package’s orange fabric. “We brought you something!” she called out eagerly, even though they both knew they were the only people there. They were, right? There was no one else. It was just them, two fully grown adults loitering around an abandoned building like a couple of nosy teenagers. “You don’t have to be shy. I promise. Mason’s been helping me with a lot of the bundles I’ve brought for you, even if he didn’t know it yet! I think he’s open to it now. He wants to help you, just like I do.”

This valley really was insane, wasn’t it? Mason could turn his head away for as long as he liked, keep repeating his denial like a mantra, but it wouldn’t change what he saw with his own two eyes. Dripping slime that stained the material of Lee’s boots, or the shining essence of light that she’d brought home cupped in her hands. A tower in the distance when Mason sat on the forest pier, playing static under his skin each time he spotted strangely colored smoke. Someone flying overhead in the dead of night, and the crushing weight of the void strangling around Mason’s soul with a bite of breakfast. Colors just out of sight, a headache building from more than lack of sleep, and Lee’s hopeful eyes flickering towards him in the chill of an old boiler room.

Damn it. Magic was real, huh?

No sooner had the words passed through his head before the world shifted, like the last pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. Whatever tension had twisted inside Mason’s chest finally chose to ease up, pulling the crisp breeze of a season nearly over into his lungs. It was like something in the air itself had been trying to force him out, only to suddenly flip around and welcome him warmly. Sitting there between them, bouncing on the plaque, was a bright green… thing. Orb-like, blushing cheeks, a leaf poking out of its head that swished with every cheery sway of the creature. Something about it reminded him of a fresh apple, or those long Summers they’d spent at the farm as children. Back when their grandfather was alive, and their mother still remembered how to smile.

One by one, more of the tiny creatures started appearing from their hiding places. Some crawled out from under the floorboards, some dropping from the ceiling above, and some simply conjuring themselves where there had been nothing before. The air felt warm and alive around them, pinpricks of light starting to fill the basement as the spirits gathered. Mason’s heart skyrocketed to his throat, fingers clenched tight into the fabric of his jeans when the scenery around him whited out.

_“We are the Junimos… Keepers of the forest.”_

When the light started to fade again, Mason’s first thought was that they’d been transported. Gone was the moldy brick from years of neglect, replaced with pristine flooring and walls. Two full basins of coal lined the wall, a fully functioning furnace radiating warmth across the length of his back. The sprites- the Junimos- remained surrounding the two siblings in a crowd. They hopped and squirmed with unmistakable glee, their chittering echoing comfortingly in the empty halls.

When Lee looked at him, full of wonder and gratefulness, Mason felt at peace in a way he’d never truly known before. Spirits in the community center, huh? Maybe sometimes Leona knew what she was talking about.

* * *

Mason wanted to go back in time and stab his past self. It was the just the sensible thing to do, given the circumstance. Stop the terrible future and put himself out of his misery in one fell swoop, saving everyone a whole lot of time, trouble, and awkwardness. Because despite finding a way to live in solitude for nearly a fourth of the year, Lee had managed to drag Mason out into the forest for the annual flower dance.

_Come on May, it’ll be fun! You’ve got to meet the rest of the townsfolk at some point, right? A town festival is perfect to do it all in one go. Aren’t you still mad at me for not buying strawberry seeds at the egg festival? Pierre is totally setting up another booth at this event! You need to at least come by to see if he has anything worth selling. Please? If not for me, do it for the farm._

Pierre had not been selling any seeds this time, just various flowers and a weird looking scarecrow. Mason finished looking at the seasonal stock quickly, eager to rush back to the farm, when a hand latched onto his arm and yanked him hurriedly into the festival proper. Lee didn’t intend to let him go until he’d met everyone in the tiny community, filling his head back to back with names that he’d forget within the hour.

It was mortifying. Everyone in sight was dressed in their nicest clothing, pristine blue slacks and flowing white dresses, and then there was Mason. Dark circles practically tattooed under his eyes, hair a greasy tangled mess, and dressed in only the finest dirt-stained work clothes he’d thrown on for this morning’s farm chores. It wasn’t his fault! He hadn’t actually planned on sticking around, much less ending up paraded from person to person by his energetic sister. Maybe she’d just gotten fed up with being asked about him so much? Planning to look at Pierre’s booth and then disappearing back into the woods, he hadn’t really thought there was a need to look his best. Not that he had any nice clothes that weren’t still wadded up in a box somewhere, but he could’ve made something work.

A few sympathetic winces were offered his way by some of the quieter attendees, namely a man with a mustache and thick glasses and a skinny guy who’d thrown on a dark hoodie over his light blue suit. Of course, neither of them made any move to save Mason from his current situation. Bastards, every last one of them.

At the end of his exhausting line of introductions, Mason collapsed against the rickety wood of an old fence. It desperately needed some maintenance, but given that the town only ventured to this clearing once a year? He doubted it would get fixed up until someone fell right through the rotted wood. Hey, he thought as it creaked in protest under his weight. Maybe Mason would be the lucky guy to take that fall. Lee took her place next to him like it was only natural, swirling a glass of punch she’d picked up along the way.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mason could only call up the energy to toss her a weak glare, shoulders slumping inward like it would help hide him from prying eyes. Names and faces rattled around inside his brain, new personalities and unique behavioral ticks and careful phrasing that could mean a million different things and judging eyes and- It was a lot. They were people, they were _just people_ but there were so many eyes and all of them were looking curiously at Mason. Knowing, appraising, sinking under his skin and taking note of his every flaw. And there were a lot of those, weren’t there? His every mistake was written across his body, in the bloodshot red of his sleepless eyes and the empty space where there used to be a wedding ring on his finger. He’d never been good at hiding his shadows, and now they were on full display to be whispered about.

In the city, Mason could walk through the streets confident that no one was paying him an ounce of attention. No one cared, keeping their heads firmly downwards and their attention only on themselves. In the city people were free to be selfish, absorbed in their own lives and staying far outside of Mason’s. Not here, in such a small town. People looked, people talked, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t avoid them forever. Soon enough they’d see Mason for the piece of shit he’d always been, any attempt at a relationship (romantic or platonic) crumbling to rotten dust in his clumsy fingers. Just like the fence, barely keeping him and his sister from tumbling outside of the community and to the muddy ground below.

He wished he’d gotten some punch for himself, just to have something to do with his hands. Mason’s tongue felt unnaturally dry, swallowing nervously before looking out at the crowd. See? No one’s looking anymore. It’s fine. Everything was going to be fine. No one cared. No one- except the pair of dark green eyes that met his for just a second. Shane stared for a moment longer, one eyebrow raised in silent question, before turning back to the food table once more.

Shane. That was a name he’d taken to remembering, even if he couldn’t put an exact reason on why. Beyond that first awkward meeting, the only two times they’d met hadn’t exactly been on the most normal footing. The first time Shane had been drunk enough to bare a piece of his shadows to a complete stranger, and the second time Mason had… not quite been in his right mind either. No need to talk about that. No one should talk about the void egg incident. But despite the prickly demeanor and Lee’s immediate distaste for the man, Shane didn’t seem bad at all. A little lost, a little lonely, only able to sit there and watch as the world crawled agonizingly slow into his esophagus and suffocated him from the inside out.

Mason was probably just projecting. No need to force his own demons onto a man he barely knew, no matter how enticingly dull purple hairs curled into the breeze when they were pushed away from somber eyes. No matter the annoyed set to his jaw as he kept his head down, the thin shadow of stubble calling out for Mason to feel it scratch along the palm of his hand. No matter the warmth of another body on the pier next to him, or the patiently frustrated voice he clung to through the spinning of an endless void.

What? No. Nope. Wrong thoughts to be having today, buddy. He barely knew Shane at all. This was just his brain was latching onto the first mildly attractive guy who could stand his presence, as if that meant anything special. Which it didn’t. Don’t make it weird, Mason. You’ve always been the one to make it weird, just like the repressed asshole you are.

But maybe he’d been staring for a little too long, because Lee’s head swiveled around to see what he’d been looking at. She looked to Mason, to Shane, and then back to Mason with a dismayed tsk rolling off the tip of her tongue. “Of course you would,” she declared, taking a small sip from her drink. “There’s only one asshole in this whole town, so of course he’d be the one person you choose to like. Why was I thinking otherwise? You awful bastard men have to stick together, it’s basically the law. One jerk attracts another.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Mason fixed Leona with his bitchiest glare possible. This time he really channeled his energy into it, just to get across how unamused he was at her insinuation. Sadly, it didn’t seem to have any effect. “Excuse me?”

“I guess it makes sense that you’d be friends,” she continued onwards, happy to bulldoze past his comments as she always did. “I think Shane sat with you for almost an hour during the cursed egg fiasco, putting up with your high existentialism and unbreakable gloominess. I’d mostly expected him to kick some dirt in your face and leave, if I’m being honest.”

WE DON’T. TALK. ABOUT. THE. VOID. EGG. INCIDENT.

Glowering silently at Lee, he chose to respond with actions rather than words. The punch was a bit too sugary-sweet for Mason’s tastes, but the offended gasp as he swiped his sister’s cup was well worth the disappointing beverage.

“Jerk! You could’ve always gotten your own. Pam spiked the punch at the egg festival, so wanted to get my drink while I was sure she hadn’t gotten to it yet.” Heaving out one of the most dramatic sighs he’d ever heard, Lee tilted her head towards the empty section of the clearing. Her pout slowly disappeared as she watched the children playing, and then quietly let her gaze drift over to a young woman. Bright purple hair and a playfully teasing smirk, chatting easily with a blond guy and the dark-haired hoodie boy from earlier.

Mason might not have been blessed with a good memory for people, but it would’ve taken quite a lot to forget Lee’s gushing from the other day. Letting his thoughts slowly churn around inside his head, he tilted back his stolen drink to swallow the last few gulps. “You going to ask her to dance?”

“What? Huh? Why would I do that? Do you think she wants me to? Do you think she’d say yes?” Lee’s cheeks were bright red, ducking her head down to hide in the safe haven of her own hands. “I mean, it’s not a romantic thing! Totally just a friend thing, for fun! Yeah. Totally. That’s the thing, right? It’s a dance for all the single people, for that sweet fertility magic or whatever. Bountiful harvest, ect. Hell, Sebastian would probably thank me for giving him an out. He’s been complaining about being forced into this dance for days!” Taking a few steading breaths to calm the fire on her face, Lee’s expression was scarily serious when she looked back up. Her dark eyes were steady as she met his look, jabbing a finger forcefully against his chest. “Alright, I accept!” she spat out, a dangerous smirk sliding across her usually kind features. “I’ll ask Abigail to dance, as long as you ask Shane!”

Yep, Lee was going crazy. If she hadn’t already been crazy beforehand. “No.” It was a simple answer, surely the one she’d expected him to say, and yet she still dared to look dejected at his refusal to play along. It was a miracle she still managed to put up with his presence, despite the toll it must take to live with a guy who sucked all the fun out of a room. Lee looked wistfully over at Abagail again, tucking a few strands of blue hair behind her ear.

Was it really just Lee and her constant quest to make him loosen up? Or was she trying to be considerate, not wanting to leave Mason alone at a festival full of strangers he’d never wanted to meet? Guilt sank cold and sharp into his chest, finding a familiar home as it tore and tangled into the flesh between his ribs. She wanted so badly to have a good time, to talk with the friends she’d made, and yet here she was. Babysitting her older brother because he threw a tantrum at the idea of minimal social interaction.

Shoving one hand into his pocket, Mason gestured with his empty cup towards the talking group. “Go on then,” he insisted, already pushing himself away from the fence. “Go ask for your dance, and I’ll scope out what free snacks they’ve got around this place. If she rejects you, you’re free to come mope by the chips and salsa with me.”

For a second Lee just stood there in her surprise, blinking owlishly as he started walking away. Then her usual grin was back in its rightful place, bright as the sun when she punched him in the arm and twirled off to her new destination. See? Everything was fine. Lee wasn’t obligated to keep an eye on him, like the watchful parent they’d never had from anyone but each other.

It should’ve been easy, trying to find a place for himself at the table as a chiming melody kicked off in the background. This was as low stakes as it got. There were _no_ stakes at all, no consequences or wrong choices to be had. And yet. Always with the _and yet_. Little things made into huge issues, voices and whispers of insecurity grating away into the base of his skull.

Don’t stand too close to someone else, his anxieties reminded him. Stand too far away and they’ll all know how fear crawls under your skin, weaving through chords of muscle like vile serpents. If you’re quiet they’ll think you’re rude, know how horrible you are. If you talk, you’ll say the wrong things, or bother the wrong person. You’ll make a fool of yourself, because that’s what you fucking do. You ruin everything you touch, don’t you Mason? Events are supposed to be fun, so why aren’t you enjoying yourself? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you act like a human being for one in your miserable li-

“You tried the green stuff?” A voice was far closer than he remembered it being, as gruff and nonchalant as its owner. Shane was leaning on the table next to Mason, twirling a chip around in a bowl of green… something. Not the consistency of guacamole, but definitely not any kind of dressing either. Shane went to pull the chip back out, cursing under his breath as half snapped off to stay lodged in the dip. “It’s the best. I don’t even know what that shit is, but Gus really knows how to make a spicy sauce.” Having the common decency to not go sticking his fingers into the bowl, Shane fished out the other half of his chip with a plastic fork.

He wasn’t smiling, but Mason could see a definite difference in attitude from the other times they’d met. There wasn’t any of lingering tension at the corners of Shane’s mouth, the defensive hunch to his shoulders nowhere to be seen. He looked genuinely relaxed, passing the fork with his abandoned chip over to Mason without another comment. A silent invitation to try it, without forcefully demanding as Lee was so prone to doing with her good intentions.

They stood there together and let the moment settle to a distant hum, looking at the annual dance with the mildest sort of interest. There in the middle of the group, ignoring all planned choreography or treasured cultural tradition, was Lee. She was swinging the purple-haired girl around in an enthusiastic twirl, both wearing matching grins that seemed to reflect off each other. Abigail seemed to relish in breaking free from the tradition, stifled giggling breaking into a loud cackle as Lee lifted her completely off the ground into a spin. If Leona had been the sun, Mason thought she may have found her moon.

Absent-mindedly, he raised the fork up to try Shane’s offered green mystery food. He soon found himself doubled over with a burning mouth and watering eyes, Shane laughing so hard at Mason’s misfortune that he bit his own tongue. Good. Misery deserves company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly Leona, Mason and Shane can't dance. They haven't reached four hearts yet!  
> Though honestly, everyone's kind comments always serve to brighten my day and motivate me to write. Hope to keep moving forward at a steady pace!


	5. Shane 4 heart event, Mason 4 heart event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... hi again. Whoops, I honestly didn't mean to let this sit here for so long with no update. On the bright side, quarantine has resparked my love of Stardew Valley!

For as utterly misguided as Leona’s Flower Dance socialization plan may have been, Shane had to admit one thing. It worked. Not completely, obviously. He doubted that Mason would ever be an overly chatty guy, no matter how many festivals you shoved him into unprepared. Still, it seemed like that had been the push he needed. Rip the bandage off all at once, right? The idea of meeting strangers was worse than the realty. Once he was actually forced into a line of introductions, wandering out into town every now and then would naturally seem far less daunting.

It had still been a jerk move to pull on her brother. If anyone tried something like that on Shane, he knows for a fact that he’d be less forgiving about it.

At least it seemed to have convinced Mason to go out and do his own shopping, rather than sending Leona out with a nearly illegible grocery list. Summer was just starting to creep its way into the valley, and with it Shane finally started to see the more secluded farmer on a regular basis. Nearly every Saturday he could hear soft mumbling from the next room over, Marnie and Mason working out some deal about hay or his newest livestock. Sometimes Shane even poked his head out of the kitchen, adding his two cents when the conversation fell into his limited area of expertise.

What? It wasn’t a big deal. Shane wasn’t exactly one to intentionally include himself in conversation, but this was different. It was business! If Mason had a question about chickens, what was the harm in chiming in with what he knew? That didn’t mean he liked the guy. Not that he really disliked him either, but Mason was… harmless. He didn’t try to pry into Shane’s business, or pick apart his less than stellar life choices. He didn’t judge or pity or give unsolicited advice. Mason just came by, did his business, and then rushed out the door at the first opportunity.

Until he didn’t.

Until week after week, stilted work-talk with Marnie relaxed into something a bit less formal. Until he started answering honestly when she asked about the state of the farm, or how his sister was doing with her mining expeditions. Until Jas wandered into the room, ducking behind Marnie’s legs to hide from the stranger. Until Jas didn’t hide anymore, waving to Mason with a shy giggle from her room when he came through the front door. Until Shane started to walk out from the kitchen even when the two at the counter weren’t talking about chickens.

It still wasn’t a big deal. This was just what Marnie was always asking him to do. Making friends, right? Lingering at the counter even when he wasn’t needed, throwing out some sarcastic joke in hopes of seeing Mason crack a smile. Mason had a nice smile, Shane thought. Rusty and out of use, quirked up on one side with the faintest flash of teeth. His head always ducked downward with the motion, like he was hoping long brown strands of hair would cover the expression up. Like he was subconsciously embarrassed about his own happiness, trying to hide it away like a secret.

Every now and then Mason would come with a bundle of bright red peppers, shuffling them onto the counter as he counted out the money for Marnie. “Just some surplus product from the farm,” he’d always deflect. “I just. I remembered that Shane liked spicy stuff, so I thought you guys would get better use out of it. Lee and I are both wimps when it comes to spicy food.”

He remembered. A dumb insignificant little detail about Shane, shared over a mysterious green dip at some forgettable town festival, and Mason remembered. More than remembered, he’d taken that information and acted on it thoughtfully. Shane had no idea why such a simple thing coiled up so tightly in his chest, warm with excess feelings he had no idea what to do with.

Time kept passing by, slowly settling into a comfortable rhythm around the new people in their lives. Until Shane fucked it up. That was just inevitable, wasn’t it? Things were fine until they weren’t, until Shane had a bad day, until Shane let his problems leak out and taint the lives of people who made the mistake of caring about him.

Until one Saturday afternoon Shane found himself woken up by a splash of water across his face, Marnie hovering in the doorway with a look of disappointment so potent that it stabbed through his gut. A familiar set of sneakers were about eye-level with Shane’s face, pulling himself up from against the floor to swipe away his suddenly dripping hair.

* * *

Mason should not have let himself get dragged into this. It wasn’t any of his business what Shane did behind closed doors, and certainly not his place to go poking around those dark corners. They were barely even friends. Were they friends at all? It’s not like they ever talked about it. There was never a moment where someone pulled out the party poppers, handing over a shiny plaque that proclaimed ‘Congrats on the Successful Friendship.’

When he thought of wry smirks and playfully bumping shoulders, Mason liked to think that they were friends. Maybe that’s why he’d let himself trail behind Marnie despite the natural instinct to keep to himself, the plain worry on her face enough to spark fear inside his own chest.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t exactly classified information that Shane had a drinking problem. Pelican Town was a small community, so when one person knew? Everyone knew. Everyone saw the constant hunch to Shane’s shoulders, knew he could be found at the Stardrop Saloon late into the night right after leaving work. Everyone talked, everyone knew, everyone whispered about his problems behind his back as if they were any better. Even Mason, safely hidden away on his farm, wasn’t exempt from being dragged into the blackhole that was small town gossip by Lee.

He knew as much as anyone else, so maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise to find Shane passed out in a puddle of drool among a pile of empty beer cans. Mason’s fingers shook against the handle to his watering can while Shane sputtered on the floor, having moved without thinking when Marnie asked for his help. He could barely even hear the two talking over the static in his own ears, trying desperately to stay tuned to the current moment. It didn’t stop the memories. Nothing ever stopped them, nipping at the edge of his consciousness even on the best of days.

_(”May, is Mom okay?”)_

A little girl shuffled past the doorway, unnoticed by the bickering adults she looked to for guidance. It was such a familiar scene that Mason had to blink a few times, making light chestnut hair flicker back to the bright purple it was in reality. Not Leona, not back then. Here and now. Jas’ worried frown, fingers tangled into the fabric of her skirt. This wasn’t like that time. This was different. Shane was fine.

_(”It’s okay, Lee. She’s going to be fine. Mom’s tough, yeah? She’s just tired. It was a long day, so we probably shouldn’t bother her.” She was going to be fine. Things may have been rough, but Mom would never leave them alone. Not intentionally.)_

“Hopefully I won’t be around long enough to need a plan.”

A little girl sobbed as she ran out of the room, Shane and Marnie’s heads flying towards the previously overlooked child. She was still so horribly young, yet smart enough to read the unspoken insinuation of her godfather’s words. Marnie wordlessly chased after Jas, casting one last painful glance towards her nephew, Mason’s hands shaking as he stared at the open door behind them.

_(Lee had been young enough to forget the specifics, to let the funeral fade back into the abyss of memory. Not Mason. He remembered the pitying glances, the well-meaning whispers. “That poor woman,” they would always say. “Such a shame. Why did she do it? How could she possibly abandon her husband and kids like that? I don’t think I’ll ever understand how someone could do that to themselves. Poor, poor woman. Poor, poor children.” Mason remembered the careful braiding of fairy roses through his mother’s hair, remembered the empty look in their father’s eyes that never quite went away after that. Not a bad man, just a broken one.)_

Mason was seeing red. Fury pooled hot and bright around the edges of his vision, sunk into his veins like an endless stream of poison. It had been a long time since Mason was angry like this, letting his constant supply of frustration and self-loathing flip outwards and find itself a new target. He spun towards Shane with a snarl, glaring daggers at the pathetic man curled up against his bedframe.

“You can’t say shit like that!” Shane flinched back at the sharp edge to Mason’s voice, rubbing at his forehead with trembling hands. He couldn’t even conjure the willpower to look up at the farmer, gritting his teeth together and taking deep breaths to steady himself through the hangover. “Are you fucking kidding me, Shane?! You have to be there for Jas! Are you just going to abandon her? Are you going to let that little girl think you’d just leave her alone? I thought you were better than this!”

He wasn’t helping. Mason knew he wasn’t helping, could see the shame and guilt printed clear across Shane’s face, but it was just so hard to stop himself. Anger was such an easy emotion to jump to when things took a bad turn, rather than ruminating on the even worse feelings swirling in his heart. Fear, sorrow, betrayal. Yeah, it was easier to get angry. It was easier to let his cruel thoughts spill out to the ground around them, lest he let them stew too long in his head. Lest he consider the fact that Shane might actually carry through with his morbid implication.

That Mason might have to watch someone else he cared about take themselves out of the picture, no thought for who they were leaving behind. Dealing with the fact that maybe it was just a pattern, maybe Mason just wasn’t good enough to make anyone want to stick around. Wasn’t that such a self-centered thought? What a horrible and selfish bastard he was. Seeing someone’s suffering, someone in pain so bad as to reject their own future, and here he was trying to make it all about himself. Human nature was an ugly thing, wasn’t it? Shane slowly started to pick himself up off the floor, wiping water off his face with the sleeve of his jacket. Mason did the only thing that made any sense.

He ran away.

* * *

The past few days had been an utter shitshow, but Shane didn’t have the first clue as to how and fix things. Well that wasn’t true, now was it? He knew exactly what he should do. He’s always known exactly what he should do, even as he took each heavy step further down his slippery slope. Shane should cut back on drinking, should give Jas a good life, should apologize to Mason. Shane should do a lot of things, not that he’s ever been a good enough person to manage any of them.

He tried to cut back a bit, after that unfortunate Saturday. Jas should never have to see someone like that, even her complete fuckup of a godfather. She deserved better. She always deserved better than whatever Shane could give her. The very least he could do was make an effort for her. He could try and shove his demons back under the bed, just so she didn’t have to catch sight of them.

One day. One yobadamned day is all he managed, only to end up right back at the saloon the very next night. He’d tried. He wanted so badly to say that he’d tried, but it was like his own worthless body decided to work against him. Shane’s hands shook as he stocked the shelves at JojaMart, a headache splitting his skull open with its constant dull ache. Morris had caught him hunched over in one of the isles, cradling his head and taking breaths to bite back the nausea. The chewing out he’d gotten after didn’t help matters either. So back to the saloon it was, like the failure he’d always be.

He might as well have not tried at all. It would have been less embarrassing for everyone involved.

Sand crunched under the soles of Shane’s sneakers, letting the salty humidity of the beach wash over him in full force. Ugh, why had he even come out here? The threadbare fabric of his hoodie clung to his arms with sweat, nearly making Shane turn right back around to search out some decent air conditioning. Maybe he would have, if he hadn’t heard a frustrated groan coming from down the pier.

“ _Another_ pair of fucking glasses?!” That was unmistakably Mason’s voice, growling with annoyance as he sat alone on the docks. “I swear, I’m gonna get Lee to write up a list of every person in this town that wears glasses. One of those bastards needs to have them glued to their face!” Soon enough there was the clanging sound of a rod being tossed to the side, the other man having apparently given up on his attempt at a fishing trip. Shane hesitated for a second, slouching in on himself before he shuffled towards the noise. He hadn’t seen Mason since that Saturday, when the other man was rushing out of the ranch like Shane was diseased. Not that Shane blamed him.

Mason glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of creaking wood, his back going stiff with tension as he met Shane’s eyes from a distance. For a second he was convinced that the farmer was going to tell him to buzz off, but Mason just let out a winded sigh before turning back out to look at the sea. Choosing to take his lack of violent dismissal as invitation, Shane slowly took a seat next to him on the dock. Both their legs dangled off the side, calling back hazy memories of the pier in Cindersap Forrest.

How the hell did people do this? It should be easy, right? Just open your stupid mouth and say something. Anything! Anything at all to break the smothering tension and snap things back to how they were before. Anything to bring back the easy banter of early Summer, trading sardonic quips over chicken feed and hot red peppers. Ask about his fishing? No, dumb plan. The guy literally just tossed his fishing rod to the ground in anger, so it’s pretty obvious that it’s not going too well for him. Shane’s nails dug into the damp wood by his leg, narrowing his eyes out at the waves as he tried to sort out his thoughts.

Maybe Shane just needed to cut past all the pretense and say what he needed to. That’s what he was supposed to be good at, right? He’d never been the type to beat around the bush. The trouble was, it’s easier to be blunt and to the point when you’ve convinced yourself not to care what the other person thinks. Somewhere along the line, Mason had wormed his way into the pathetically small list of people that Shane forgot not to care about.

Forcing himself to relax the death-grip he’d taken on the boards, Shane let out a slow breath and pried open his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry.” Mason literally jumped at the sound of Shane’s voice, which was probably not a good sign. Someone should not look so panicked that they were being apologized to. “For the other day. I mean, obviously that’s what I’m apologizing for. Unless I did some other indefensible bullshit that I’m having trouble remembering. Which is honestly just as likely, given my track record.”

“No, I-” Mason ran his fingers back through his hair, pushing the strands away from his face. His expression was drawn and guarded, like Shane’s apology was physically repulsive to him. Wow, how flattering. “Don’t apologize. Not for that. I got caught up in the moment and said some thoughtless things, okay? Not that I didn’t mean what I said. Not that I didn’t not mean them! I- argh!” Throwing his arms out in frustration, Mason let himself collapse backwards to lay flat on the pier. He stared up blankly at the sky, hair fanning out around his face and legs still hanging off the dock. “I’m so bad at this. Saturday was a mess, okay? But I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you. I just…” There was a long pause as he tried to find the right words, seeming unaware of how Shane stared cautiously at every twitch of his expression. “I’m a bad person, Shane.”

Shane’s gaze unconsciously softened, unable to help his sudden pang of empathy. He wished he had a beer right then, if only to have something to do with his hands. (Not just for that, his brain reminded him unwanted. To loosen the constant tension of his muscles, to make a long night go by quicker, to dull the horrible agony that came from having a hard conversation. It was never just for something to do with his hands, because Shane was a bad person too.) “Join the club, buddy,” he agreed out loud, trying to reclaim any of their usual air of casualness.

“No. No, you don’t get it,” Mason muttered, letting his eyes flutter shut as he laid there. He almost looked peaceful like that; like some prince in one of Jas’ favorite storybooks. That is, he would if any of the princes had an obviously persistent case of insomnia and permanently mud-stained clothing. “I told you I was divorced, yeah? Do you know why?”

“Because you’re gay? ‘S what you told me.” Such a fun little fact that never again came up in conversation, always lingering at the corner of Shane’s mind when they chatted. What did it matter? It didn’t. For such a small town people were surprisingly accepting, and Shane himself had known he was bi since back in high school. And yet, he kept thinking about it anyway. He kept thinking about the fact that Mason openly admitted to liking guys. He kept wondering what kind of guys he might go for.

Probably someone with a good work ethic, so they could keep up with his constant fussing about the farm. Maybe with a bright personality and a deep well of patience, so they could yank Mason out of the pit his mind made on bad days. Or even if he wasn’t looking for anything specific personality-wise, he at least would find himself someone good looking. Some handsome guy with toned arms and a winning smile, a far cry away from the deadbeat neighbor with a beer belly.

“I wish that was the reason,” Mason muttered miserably, shifting to sling one of his arms over his face. “At least that would’ve been an honest mistake. Still my fault for rushing into a serious relationship I wasn’t ready for and wasting years of her life, but Serena has always been the bigger person. She probably would’ve even been understanding. Hell, despite everything that girl was my best friend. I really did love her with everything I had, even if it was only platonically. I should’ve come clean and been honest with her the second I came to terms with not being attracted to her, but I was a selfish dickhead who was too scared of change. I wasn’t in love with her, but I didn’t want to lose the life we’d made together.”

“Is there a point to this little story?” Shane huffed out, his own frustration twitching in the clench of his fist. “You’re trying to prove what a horrible guy you are by… what? Telling me you led a girl on? Sometimes relationships don’t work out, Mason. We’ve all got bad stories with our exes.”

“I cheated on her.” Shane’s mouth snapped shut at Mason’s softly spoken confession, watching as the farmer slid his arm off his eyes and stared back up at the sky. “There was this guy we both knew. A photographer, though he mostly just got hired for events and weddings. Declan. Actually, I first met him at our own wedding. His rates were still pretty cheap compared to other photographers you found in Zuzu City, and we weren’t looking for anything fancy. He was… I don’t know. I liked him. I liked him a lot.”

Shane couldn’t hide his wince even if he’d tried, finally tearing his eyes away from Mason to look back out at the ocean. “You cheated on her with the _wedding photographer?_ That’s low.”

“You don’t have to tell me how shitty that is, because I’m perfectly aware!” In all honesty, this looked physically painful for Mason to be admitting. With every word he seemed to shrivel up further into himself, like he hoped if he made himself small enough he could fall through the old boards beneath them and drown in the ocean below. “It’s not like it was an immediate thing! We stayed in touch after the wedding because he seemed like a cool guy, and I guess we just kinda became friends along the line. He was the one person I came clean to when I was struggling with my sexuality, but he never threatened to tell Serena or acted like he was judging me. I- I honestly liked him. I liked him so fucking much that it hurt, so when he offered I couldn’t just-”

Mason pulled in breath like someone had stabbed his lungs full of holes, his whole body shaking with the effort of it. His eyelids had snapped shut again, arms crossed over his chest and nails digging harsh into his forearms. “I didn’t want him to leave me. He didn’t want anything serious, and I was too much of a coward to face Serena, and it was- he was so easy to fall into.” Mason had been in love with Declan. He didn’t say the words aloud, but he didn’t have to. It was obvious from the look on his face, the pain laced throughout his voice. “I could’ve done a million things differently, handled it in any other way to stop people from getting hurt, but I didn’t. Because I’m a bad person. She found out. Of course she found out, because that’s how these things work.”

Slowly, each movement pulling a loud creak from the boards below, Mason pushed himself back up into a sitting position. Neither of them looked at each other as he continued speaking. “I’m a liar, a cheater, a coward. A black hole that people naively throw their love into, only to realize that all I’m going to do in return is drag them into a decaying orbit. When emotions get too much for me to process, I always default to anger and lash out at people who don’t deserve it. I’m rotten. Do you get that, Shane? Maybe I was halfway decent once upon a time, but I let that rot take root in my chest until I corroded from the inside out.” More creaking and groaning echoed through the empty beach as Mason stood up, taking a second to pick up his fishing pole a few feet away.

“You’re… Shane, you’re important to me. You’re so important to me, and seeing you like that on Saturday? It tore me up in ways I don’t think there are words for. I want to help you. I want to be the type of friend that you know you could rely on for support when things get bad, but I think we saw just how well I managed at that on my own.” For a moment he paused in gathering his belongings, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. Shane wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to have heard it at all. “You shouldn’t lean on rotten wood for support. It’ll just fall out from under you.”

And then, as he was so prone to do, Mason walked away. Shane stared at the ocean until the sun set, letting his thoughts stew until the saloon called out his name once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, angst and backstory dump! What did I tell you guys before? This boy is a Mess. Also I finally found out how to make a page break and I hope everyone is proud of me for it.
> 
> On a side note, I rediscovered "Ship to Wreck" by Florence & the Machine and... whelp. A song all about self-destructive tenancies, using plenty of water imagery and a couple allusions to having trouble sleeping? Yep, that's a Mason song. This is my second fic in a row I've ended up associating with one of Florence's songs, and I'm wondering is this is becoming a pattern.


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